Chapter 4
Chapter 4
“ O h, honey, no,” Poppy said, shaking her head, a sad smile on her face.
“What do you mean no? You haven’t heard me out,” he said.
“I don’t have to hear you out. The answer will always be no,” she said. “I get that you’re that sort of guy, the kind who wants to be honorable and make it right. And I appreciate that, I really do. My dad’s like that. I’m like that, if we’re being honest. So I can see the merits. But in reality, it wouldn’t work out.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we’re strangers. You can’t marry a stranger on a whim,” she said.
“What we did three weeks ago in the gazebo, that was a whim. This I’ve actually put some thought into,” he said. “You’d be covered under my insurance, both health and life. You’d have a safe, spacious place to live. We’d both share parenting in, wait for it, the same house.”
“Those things all sound spectacular, really. But what you’re offering me is only safety, and it’s not enough. I need love. I need romance and spice and adventure. That’s why I live here, in New York and not West Elbow, Texas or whatever the town was called. That’s Bailey’s life, not mine. I’m a city girl, through and through.”
“But why? This place is horrible,” he said. She laughed, and he smiled a little. She linked her arm with his.
“How long are you sticking around?”
“Day after tomorrow,” he said.
“Good. Tomorrow’s my day off. I’ll show you the good parts and you’ll see it’s not such a bad place to raise a kid. Yes, I totally agree with you, I need to find a better place to live. But I’m not without options. I have a degree from the Culinary Institute of America. I know you know nothing about food, but that’s like the Harvard of cooking schools. I can get a job pretty much anywhere in this city. Being a pastry chef doesn’t pay amazing, but I can get better hours with access to better housing, or at least I’ll try. And I won’t stop until I do. This is important to me, the safety and wellbeing of our baby, and I’ll make it a priority, I promise.”
“It sounds so weird to hear you say ‘our baby.’”
“I know,” she agreed. “For the record, I’m not the kind of girl who…”
“And I’m not the kind of guy who…” he trailed off, mimicking her.
“I could guess that you weren’t, Mr. Park Ranger.”
“I am so not a park ranger,” he said, slipping his arm around her and giving her a squeeze.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Whatever you are, you should know I’m approximately thirty seconds from falling asleep right now.”
“I should go,” he said.
“You should stay. I told you that you’ll never get a hotel,” she said.
“I can’t stay here,” he said, motioning to the tiny, single bed.
“What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like we’re going to get more pregnant,” she pointed out. “And Zoe will be home any minute, saving you from my further advances.”
“There are further advances?” he asked.
“You’ve barely scratched the surface of my advances,” she said, and he smiled.
“Fine. I’ll use the bathroom and be right back.”
“There’s a blue plastic box in there that’s mine. Look inside, and you’ll find my toothpaste and a new toothbrush that, for the record, is not for unscheduled overnight guests such as yourself. I bought a two pack last week when I replaced my old one.”
“Sounds good,” he said. He left, used the bathroom, washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth, and returned. Poppy was already sound asleep. He peeled off his clothes and boots down to boxers and a t-shirt and climbed in beside her. Still unconscious, she snuggled against him. He slipped his arm around her thinking that, all in all, so far fatherhood wasn’t so bad.
W hen he woke the next morning, Poppy draped ungracefully on his chest, her long hair half over his mouth. He stayed perfectly still, not wanting to wake her. His internal clock told him it was six Texas time, eight in New York. A movement to his side caused him to turn his head to the left where he came face to face with a bald woman with neck tattoos, staring hard at him from eighteen inches away.
“You snore,” the presumed Zoe whispered before rolling onto her other side away from him.
The whisper woke Poppy who blinked at him in confusion. At least he thought it was confusion. A second later she pressed her hand to her mouth, rolled off the bed, and dashed to the bathroom.
Sully sat up, uncertain if he should follow. He had the vague notion he should try to comfort her, or at least hold her hair, but instead he remained still, waiting for her return.
She arrived a few minutes later, sat on the bed, reached for a plastic tote, and removed a sleeve of saltines, being careful to hold the crumbs over the tote while she ate one.
“No crumbs in the bed for George,” she whispered. “Bad bed-sharing manners.”
“I really, really don’t like you sharing a bed with a man,” Sully said, surprised he even had to utter such a thing. Who did that? No one in his world.
“George is safe,” Poppy said, and Zoe snorted.
“George is not safe,” Zoe added, still facing away from them.
“Okay, safe is the wrong word. George is clean.”
“Still,” Sully said.
“I told you I’ll work on fixing it,” Poppy said, annoyed. He remembered she probably felt miserable and clamped his lips on further protests.
“Okay if I shower?” he asked.
She nodded. “I keep an extra pair of men’s underwear in my…” she broke off and rolled her eyes. “I’m joking. You really lack a sense of humor about my alleged promiscuity. Zoe, have I ever brought a boyfriend here before?”
“Try it and I’ll cut you,” Zoe said, holding her butcher knife aloft without turning around.
“You’re welcome to a pair of my underwear, if you like,” Poppy offered, grinning wickedly.
“I’ll turn mine inside out, but thanks,” Sully said.
“More info than I needed to know,” Poppy called, and he smiled as he left the room.
As he returned to the room, he heard Poppy talking, and he smiled. Her joyful voice told him she had recovered from her earlier bout of sickness. Of course he couldn’t say for certain, but she seemed like a cheerful, happy-go-lucky sort of person, and he liked that. His mother was like that, and he wanted the same for his kids. Rather, his kid. He would probably have other kids with another woman, his wife, if he ever got married. It was a depressing thought. He never imagined he would be one of those men with babies by multiple women.
He heard a man’s voice and stopped short outside the door. “So, your sister moves to Texas, and you go full cowgirl on us,” the man said.
“I told you it’s not mine,” Poppy said.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the male voice replied. “Lots of girls go through cowboy phases. I’ll take you to one of those bars where you can ride a mechanical bull, get it out of your system before you go wild and spend a paycheck on leather boots.”
“George, seriously, it’s not my hat,” Poppy replied.
“Then whose is it?”
Sully rounded the corner in time to see George lean in as he spoke, touching his nose to Poppy, who smiled at him in return, Sully’s hat on her head. “It’s mine,” Sully said, and the man’s eyes flew to him, shocked. Sully was equally shocked, and he got it now about why Poppy said George was safe; George was a cop. He stood, eyeing Sully with suspicion, the morning sun streaming from the nearby window glinting off his shiny NYPD badge.
“Who are you?” George demanded.
Poppy stood, put a hand to her head, and sat quickly again. “He’s my sister’s friend from Texas. He came to visit the city and failed to get a hotel room, so I let him stay here.”
“In our bed?” George asked in the same disdainful tone Sully had used regarding the bed sharing situation.
“This is so weird,” Sully said.
“So weird,” Zoe echoed, the pillow now over her head.
“Yes, and he’s here for one more night, so he’s probably going to be here again,” Poppy declared.
“You slept in the same bed with him?” George demanded. “Poppy, seriously wow.”
“Nothing happened,” Poppy said. “Zoe, did anything happen?”
“If it had, I would cut you,” Zoe said, holding her knife aloft again.
“See?”
“Just because it hasn’t doesn’t mean it won’t. What would your dad say?” George said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Poppy paled and forced herself to stand. She clutched George’s forearms. “You can’t tell my dad he was here. Please, George.”
“Of course I won’t,” George relented, his hands settling at her waist.
Sully stepped forward. “I’m confused. Are you two together?”
From her bed, Zoe snorted.
“No,” George and Poppy answered together, and then George frowned at her.
“Seriously, answer faster next time. Feels delightful,” he said.
Poppy shook him off and sat down. “We answered at the same time, you goof. We’re friends.”
Zoe snorted again. Poppy hit her with a pillow. “Thank you for your continued input on this.”
Zoe held up a thumb in salute.
Sully put his hands to his temples. “I’m getting a headache.”
“Welcome to my world,” Poppy said, making the same gesture.
“Are you okay?” George asked, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. She nodded, and Sully took another step forward.
“Let’s get breakfast,” he suggested.
“Right, yes. Breakfast.” She grimaced, shuddering against the word. “I need to grab a quick shower. She reached beneath the bed, removed a tote, sat up, pressed her hand to her mouth, and made another dash for the bathroom.
Sully and George stared at each other. “She’s sick,” George declared.
“I think so,” Sully agreed.
George regarded the bed warily. “Wonder if I should change the sheets.”
“Pretty sure you’re safe,” Sully said, and from her bed, Zoe snorted again.